


planets for beloved

by vultuers



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Uchiha Izuna Lives, most of founders era characters appear as well im just not gonna fuccen tag them, mostly melodrama, no smut in the first chapter but that will come my bois, nothing too heavy tho it's just founders era characters in space, so prepare for Some Space Politics, this is heavily inspired by star wars and star trek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 07:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12406050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vultuers/pseuds/vultuers
Summary: Madara smirks and Tobirama's stomach does a somersault;it's because of the spaceship,he insists to himself with a clenched jaw, dry mouth, hammering heart.or; tobirama has a ridiculous crush on madara and madara keeps grumbling over the fact that the senju's outfit for sparring is so troublesomely attractive on the bastard.





	planets for beloved

**Author's Note:**

> i am alive and i have not abandoned _cruelest twines of fate_ either, i just moved to the UK so life got a lil. hectic. have a space AU madatobi shit i started a few months ago. no idea how long it will be so i guess we'll both be surprised
> 
> in this chapter; few star wars references, one hidden whitesnake lyric, meaningless banter, enjoy!!

 

 

The ship shakes violently, very scientific beeps going on all over the bridge. Madara curses, braces his hands against the console to keep his balance; arms shaking with violent rage when the AI informs him that there has been a _breach on deck A3_ and that _two humanoids have entered the ship._

Before he can yell out orders for his crew to get their phasers ready the deck door opens and a small sphere rolls into the room, sends out an angry beep, and then the world blackens.

When Madara comes back to his senses the world seems to spin the slightest; eyesight swimming as he slowly realizes he has been tied to his own goddamn console bar. Strong bonds of cold metal-like rope hold his hands behind his back.

“You’re awake,” a calculated voice notes somewhere to his right.

Madara whips his head into the direction of the noise and seethes immediately, “We are under a fucking peace treaty!”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Tobirama says and takes a slow step towards the Uchiha, “Until I realized that some of my most valued datapads have disappeared.”

“Are you accusing me of stealing some dumb datapads,” Madara grits through his teeth. He notes that the rest of the bridge crew have disappeared, leaving only himself and Tobirama in the room.

Tobirama cocks his head, “You’re not denying the claim?”

“I swear to the fucking _Betelgeuse_ that I’ll _end you_ once I get free,” Madara scowls and tries to calm himself; there’s no way Tobirama will succeed in riling him up.

“You see,” Tobirama starts, takes another tentative step, “I must make it clear that I’m here on my own accord and my… brother has no idea I have come here at all.”

“Are you _threatening_ me?”

Tobirama _almost_ rolls his eyes, “No. I’m just making sure that you understand that if you _cooperate_ we don’t need to tell him at all and therefore avoid all complications. Just return the datapads to me and I’ll forgive you.”

Madara barks out a laugh, “You’ll _forgive me?_ Are you off your rockers, Senju?” He wants to rub his temples to fight the oncoming headache; settles on closing his eyes slowly, “I have not stolen your goddamn datapads.”

Tobirama steps closer, presses his hands on both sides of where Madara is half leaning, half sitting on the console, looks the Uchiha in the eyes and purses his lips. Madara’s Sharingan swirls lazily with a hidden threat but Tobirama doesn’t flinch.

“Where are they,” Tobirama’s voice is a low, dangerous rumble.

Madara tilts his head, “Is my crew alright.”

Tobirama’s fingers flinch where they’re half pressed against Madara’s body and Madara gets the impression Tobirama wants to either punch or choke him, “Are you accusing me of hurting your people for no reason.”

“Good one, mocking my words like that,” Madara mutters and tilts his head, adds “Hasn’t stopped you before, picking fights with me left and right.”

“You’re different from them,” Tobirama says and snaps his jaw shut with an audible click, pushes himself off from the console and straightens to his full height.

Madara blinks, “What.”

Tobirama pinches the bridge of his nose with a pained expression, “Can’t you just tell me where the pads are.”

“I told you, why do you never fucking listen, I don’t _have_ the datapads,” the thought of kicking Tobirama in the face crosses his mind, and, immediately the image of a frowning Hashirama.

“I don’t want to disturb the fragile peace treaty you have been building with my brother, Uchiha,” Tobirama starts and his voice is surprisingly calm, fingers clicking against the metal of his belt, drawing attention to the little metal container there.

Madara stares, “Are you fucking -, are you for real, are you actually threatening me here. You do know that I could just take control of your brain,” he lets the Sharingan swirl into the more advanced version easily.

Tobirama just scoffs. “I know you won’t. I know you treasure the co-dependency you have going on with Hashirama, you won’t risk it.”

“He-“

“In any case, your crew won’t remember any of this happening. If we can settle it like this, no one has to know. I’m giving you absolution, here. I’ll turn a blind eye to your thievery if you’ll just give them back.”

Madara considers this, “You know, that doesn’t sound fair at all. How is it fair if I stole, _supposedly_ , the pads and you’ll just retrieve them. You won’t get any kind of a revenge from this.”

“As usual, you can’t see the bigger picture. I’m trying to take the high ground here and think of what’s good for _all of us,_ not just to _me._ Are you listening? I told you I’m not trying to risk the peace.”

Madara looks at Tobirama; his white hair is wild, red eyes burning, tight black jacket slightly open. He’s not wearing the Senju insignia anywhere; the sleeve it should be attached to is decidedly empty.

“What’s in the datapads, anyway,” Madara asks and Tobirama bristles immediately.

Tobirama’s jaw clenches, body going rigid. A console bleeps. The background light makes it look like Tobirama’s blushing.

“So you haven’t decoded them,” Tobirama shoots back after a beat; his expression betrays that even he finds that remark weak.

Madara growls out, “This is not getting anywhere. I don’t know what the meaning of this godforsaken… renegade act is, but it’s starting to seem you’re defying Hashirama, your brother, the appointed Emperor of the whole Konoha Sena-”

Tobirama doesn’t let him finish the sentence, slams his hands against the console again and leans into Madara’s personal space, “ _How do you dare suggest I would betray my brother_ ,” his voice is unwavering; _calm before the storm_ , Madara supplies and suddenly Izuna’s singsong voice from earlier - when he finally got to test drive his very own Winger – assaults his brain, _this must be l-_

“You have forsaken your insignias,” Madara points out quickly before his brain can finish the sentence. He feels slightly feverish and idly wonders if he’s allergic to the sphere Tobirama used to knock him out with.

Tobirama looks him dead in the eyes and Madara feels odd about that; it’s unsettling to find people who don’t fear his enhanced eyes. Red meets black, this time, and Madara’s abdomen feels strange.

Silence engulfs them save for the sporadic beeps, red and blue lights flickering in the background.

 _Do you want mine instead,_ Madara almost blurts out, bites his tongue and blinks in surprise at himself.

Tobirama is frozen, face so very close to Madara’s – who’s trying his best not to look too closely at the red markings on the Senju’s face, how they press into skin, how they’re so perfectly symmetrical it’d take the Sharingan to say which one is longer, at his beautiful eyes and pale lips and _what the hell._

Madara can feel a hand creeping on his sleeve and he swallows, eyes flickering back to Tobirama’s intense eyes, trying to look for any signs of what he’s planning. Tobirama flutters his eyelashes. Madara can’t breathe.

Fingers curl against his upper arm and there’s a beat before the tell-tale ripping sound of Fastening Tape fills the room. Tobirama smirks. Madara pales.

“I’ll take yours,” the Senju says as he straightens and takes a step back.

Madara’s _burning,_ seething with unbelievable rage and embarrassment as he stammers, “I’m the, what, did you read my m-, you can’t, I’m _Squadron Leader for fuck’s sake –“_

Tobirama smiles as he drags his hand across the console, fingers curling around Madara’s personal datapad, slipping it into his pocket. He eyes the bridge with interest, notices a small cube sitting on the Commander’s armrest.

“I’ll take this, as well. Think of them as deposits,” his smile is predator-y. Madara’s stomach is doing somersaults. “I’ll return them once I get my datapads.”

“ _I’ll rip off your entire face the next time I see you, Senju,”_ Madara roars and rattles the binds.

Tobirama throws a smug look at him, salutes and the bridge door hisses closed.

Madara is left with his thundering heart and breathless lungs.


End file.
